


You Feel so LA

by starryeyedboxes



Series: The Sweetness Never Lasts [2]
Category: Septiplier - Fandom
Genre: M/M, nsfw-ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-30
Updated: 2015-10-30
Packaged: 2018-04-28 21:32:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5106467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starryeyedboxes/pseuds/starryeyedboxes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mark and Jack cross paths yet again, but is it for the better or for worse?</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Feel so LA

**Author's Note:**

> This took me ages to finish, I am so sorry. I know I haven't been writing lately, and this actually wasn't high on my priorities to finish, but it spontaneously happened anyway. 
> 
> There's one part left to this little series, so hopefully that heads out soon and I don't take like months to finish either. Yikes. 
> 
> Don't hold me to that, though.
> 
> (Also, if there are any mistakes, I am so sorry. I didn't have the chance to edit it and I really wanted it up tonight. It'll be edited in the morning.)

As Mark stepped out of his hotel in Los Angeles, he let out a sigh, the California weather anything but what he imagined. They were just getting over a rainstorm so the sky was awfully gloomy, but the sun was still concealed behind the darkened clouds. Mark’s meeting had been quite long last night, prohibiting him from visiting much of the busy city, so right now would have to do, even if he had just woken up.

Checking his watch, he saw that it was a little before noon. Plenty of time. His flight back home was to leave tomorrow morning so he would have to see as much as he could today. There were a ton of places to visit in Los Angeles, plenty of museums he wouldn’t be able to visit like he wanted, lots of restaurants he wouldn’t get to try. But, he would have to make do with what he was given. 

He did a few rounds of shopping, the large crowds of people fairly surprising. He picked up a few things for his co-workers back home, a sweater for Danny, and grabbed a few souvenirs himself. Mark loved LA and promised himself that he and his boyfriend of a few years would come back and visit for vacation. He had to leave Danny at home as this was a work matter, but he was fairly sure Danny would love it here. 

As Mark left the shop, he saw that the sun was beginning to set. He hadn’t even gotten to go to a museum today. Most of his day had been spent shopping around at the outlets and stores around, so he was a bit unhappy when he hailed a cab.

“Do you know of any good bars?” Mark questioned the driver. “I’m not from around here.”

When the driver prompted him of one in Santa Monica near the beach, Mark was more than happy to pay the slightly expensive fare to get there. He needed something to drink and was definitely more than eager to see the nightlife that LA had to offer. 

For a moment, he pushed the thought of Danny to the back of his mind. He definitely would not approve of Mark going out to a bar while this far away from home -- Danny was never the jealous type, but when he was across the country, he worried a tiny bit.

He definitely wanted something fun to do tonight. If a few drinks and dancing did the trick, then so be it.

 

“Can I get you anything?” Mark approached the bar and leaned his back against it. But when he heard the inflection, Mark froze. His heart stilled as everything silenced around him. He absolutely knew that voice. There was no way he couldn’t. It may have been years since he last heard it, but that Irish inflection was hardly unrecognizable. 

He almost didn’t turn around.

“Sir?”

“N-no thank you,” he muttered, still not facing Jack behind him. 

What was Jack even doing here? He was supposed to be back in Ireland. He left years ago after their last encounter. Why was he a bartender? Better yet, why was he in LA of all places? New York alone was far away from Dublin, let alone Los Angeles.

“You sure?” He questioned again. “Seems like you need one. How about one on the house? Unless you don’t drink.”

With a loud sigh, Mark finally turned around, his gaze finally catching Jack’s. They both seemed to hold their breath. Jack was nothing like what Mark remembered. He had green hair now, the color bright and wonderful. He looked a bit older, of course, but when Mark looked into those untamed eyes, he felt the recognition settle in. For a moment, it was like they had never separated.

But Jack blinked hard, and his lips pursed. “Well. This was… not something I was expecting.”

“That makes two of us,” Mark countered with a light laugh. He was already rubbing the back of his neck but Jack hadn’t moved a muscle. His hands were clenched tightly over a white rag, Jack’s eyes practically glaring daggers. “Yikes.”

“What’re you doing in California?” Jack quickly adverted his gaze, grabbing a glass from below the counter and placing it in front of Mark. Mark slid onto the barstool cautiously, his eyes watching as his shot glass was filled with pure Fireball. “Of all places to run into you…”

“I’m here for business,” he responded, his finger running along the rim of the glass. “My company sent me out as a representative.”

“Big shot, eh?”

“Not particularly. I think it was because I was the only one who was able to make the trip. What about you, Jack?”

With a side-glance, he sighed. “I never made it back to Ireland.”

Mark paused. “What?”

“I couldn’t go home. It didn’t feel right. I left home to be with you. And of course, when New York didn’t fit me anymore, I had to make a new home. I found it here in Los Angeles.”

“I didn’t know you were a bartender.”

“Well, it has been years, Mark.”

Mark could almost feel the icy stare he was given as he awkwardly sipped at his cup. The warmth that followed was almost welcomed as it burned on the way down. It amazed him that Jack still even remembered what he liked to drink. 

“It’s-- uh-- it’s nice to see you.”

“You don’t need to do the fake polite shit, you know,” Jack mused, a smile surprisingly surfacing. “We both know that this isn’t exactly the most pleasant experience.”

Mark bit the inside of his cheek as he thought about it for a moment. He was clearly out of his element, and he was pretty sure that it showed well. But when Jack tilted his head and leaned forward with his chin resting in his palm as his elbow rested on the counter, he gave another smile. 

“What?” Mark pressed his glass back down on the counter.

“I just find it pretty funny that we’ve both ended up here. In LA. Go fuckin’ figure.” Mark couldn’t help but chuckle at the comment. It was pretty ironic. They hadn’t exactly ended on a good note. Twice. “Don’t y’think, Fischbach?”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Mark chimed. “I definitely never expected it.”

“Well,” Jack hummed, almost hesitantly. “I’m off in about half an hour if you want to wait around. LA life is pretty cool at night if you want to see it.”

Mark was taken back. He didn’t expect those words to come out of Jack’s mouth, especially after the cold treatment he had been getting since their conversation began. Between the icy stares and bitter remarks, it was the opposite of what he thought would happen.

“You mean you actually want to spend time with me?” He questioned, quirking an eyebrow as Jack refilled his glass. “After everything that went down?”

Jack looked up through his eyelashes, but it was anything but pleasant. He looked slightly angry. “You don’t have to. It’s just a friendly gesture, especially based on the fact we used to be major roles in each other’s lives-- for lack of better words I should say.”

Mark’s face flushed red. There was the hostile tone he was expecting.

“I’ll wait,” he mumbled, sipping at the small shot glass instead of downing the whole thing entirely. He looked away, eager to avoid eye contact. “I’m in LA by myself, so it’s not like I particularly have anything better to do.”

Jack didn’t raise his head but instead looked at Mark from the corner of his eye as he wiped down some of the glasses behind the counter. He simply huffed as both of them pretended that the atmosphere around them wasn’t tense.

 

Just like Jack said, he got off in half an hour. As they walked down the Los Angeles street after getting out of their cab, Mark found that they were in front of the Los Angeles County Museum of Art. As they walked towards the tourist attraction, the Urban Lights, located on the outskirts of the museum, Mark rubbed his arms at the chilly air. Jack threw him a look, but didn’t act on anything as he shoved his hands in his own coat pockets. He had clearly come prepared.

“So how’s everything in New York?” Jack finally questioned, breaking the long silence that had been present since they left the bar a while ago. “Same?”

“Sort of,” Mark replied, his tone light. “I mean, nothing really changed. It’s not like either of us had a large circle of friends or anything.”

“You know who I’m asking about,” he rushed bluntly, the heel of his boot scraping on the cement as he dragged his feet. “We all know.”

“Danny’s fine,” Mark muttered, his cheeks warming at Jack’s forward personality. He had been hoping the conversation wouldn’t pop up, but clearly it was time. “We’re still together. We moved out of that studio and got an actual apartment.”

“What a shame,” Jack sighed. Mark’s body tensed and when Jack realized what he had said, he quickly held his hands up. “I mean, because the studio was nice wasn’t it? It was a nice location and stuff. I know you spent quite a handful on it.”

When Mark felt his body loosen back up as they continued down the sidewalk, he huffed. “I guess. I miss it, but it never felt like home, really. So I had Danny look for a new place not long after… after you left.”

Jack didn’t seem to bat an eye as they finally approached the Urban Lights, the large lampposts towering over them as they took a seat on the short wall nearby. Mark was amazed at the scene in front of him. Plenty of people were taking pictures with the lights, posing happily and taking time to get the right shot. Even though it was late at night, it was still fairly crowded. 

“A guy named Chris Burden created this,” Jack informed as he looked up at the lights himself. “He was pretty crazy. He did an art piece where he had someone shoot him in the arm. Crazy shit. He died not too long ago, though. Ever since, I’ve noticed a few more people visiting the lights.”

Mark glanced over at Jack who was looking around at the crowd with an amused expression. “You seem to know your shit.”

The latter couldn’t help but laugh, his eyes crinkling in the corners. “Probably weird coming back and seeing me ramble on about art. Not like I really did that in New York, huh?”

“Not at all. You were at the movie theaters more than you would be at an art museum.”

“The cinemas here are pretty cool, too,” he mused. “But, LA has a lot of art to offer. It’s pretty cool. I like it out here.”

Mark looked at him with a soft expression. “You seem… happy here.” 

Jack returned the gaze and smiled gently. “It’s the happiest I’ve been in a long time, I have to say.”

And with that, Mark felt something heavy in his heart. He couldn’t pinpoint it exactly, but when he looked at Jack’s slightly older face, the thicker scruff, the bright green hair, the wild blue eyes, the faint scent of alcohol from work, it all made his chest tingle. Jack didn’t look like the cautious, scared person he was when they last saw each other that one night. 

He was different. More fitted. More comfortable with himself.

“It’s nice to see you out here in LA, you know,” Mark finally said, breaking the eye contact as he looked back out at the large-scale sculpture. “You’re in a good place.”

“Are you?”

Yet again, Mark was taken back at how easily that question flowed out of Jack’s lips. He really had changed, and while it was surprising, Mark was more concerned about how he ended up being the cautious one. He danced around the heavy topics while Jack dove right in. 

“What do you mean?” He almost had to choke it out.

“Are you in a good place? You’re still with Danny after all. That must be a good thing.”

Mark thought for a moment, digging deep. He racked his memories of his boyfriend, of that untamed hair that adorned his pillow every night, of the thin arms that laced around him in the early morning. He recalled the comfortable laughter as they walked the streets and the entertaining afternoons with video games and Danny at his side.

But when he looked back at Jack, those things were replaced with the spontaneous nights of driving around town looking for an open pizzeria because Mark wanted a slice and Jack was determined to find one to satisfy his boyfriend. Even the long mornings where he could hear Irish songs radiating from the kitchen, breakfast being made for when he woke hung in his mind. Memories of bright blue eyes lit up with excitement as Jack pulled his hand towards the deep snowbanks on their Christmas trips to Ireland, the two of them staring in awe at the high walls. Mark could even recall the loud, entertained laughter that would echo around them as Jack also pulled him out in the pouring rain to splash in the dirty puddles, still laughing as Mark accidentally knocked him to the ground, his elbow scraping against the pebbles. 

Mark was silent for a long time while Jack sat patiently, his gaze fixating on a group of friends who were exploring the lights. It had been years, yet here Mark was, still pining over the loss of a wild Jack in his life which was easily replaced with a gentle and sane Danny. 

Jack was a storm, beautiful, untamed, and stimulating, while Danny was the morning sunrise, warm, soft, and calming. However, the problem was the fact that he wasn’t sure what he liked more. 

But this wasn’t the time for that. This wasn’t Jack coming back again asking to get back together or to ask him to return. Why Mark was even debating on which he liked more was beyond him. It definitely was not the place.

So instead, he smiled, sighed, and spoke, “Yeah, I am.”

Jack looked back at him and gave a lopsided smile. Without skipping a beat, he laughed. “You’re such a bullshitter, Fischbach.”

And Mark felt his eyebrows furrow. “I’m sorry?”

“I know you, inside and out, Mark,” Jack chimed as he pulled himself off the wall and stretched out his limbs. “It may have been years, but I know a liar when I see one.” Before Mark could say anything, he held up his hand. “Hey, you don’t want to tell me, I won’t make you. I wasn’t expecting your entire story. I was just asking, alright?”

Mark pursed his lips and looked away as he nodded.

“Alright, cool. Now, you want a few pictures with these lights or what? I’m sure you’re hungry, so how about after we head to my place and I cook you up my famous chicken?”

Mark felt a slight headache coming on, but he forced a smile anyway and nodded. “Sounds like a plan.”

 

Visiting Jack’s apartment was probably the strangest feeling Mark has ever had. When he walked in behind Jack who held open the door for him, it was odd seeing this new piece of Jack’s life, something he didn’t have any real knowledge of.

When he stepped into the living room, he saw black couches and family pictures adorning the walls. A large entertainment system was resting in the front (at least that part was something Mark expected) but it was just so odd. Everything was so modern. The walls were a soft grey as white curtains decorated the wide windows. He even had a view out on the city. Everything was so clean and just… foreign.

Mark felt weird.

“Here, come into the kitchen! Let’s fix you up some good old chicken, just the way good ol’ Jackaboy used to make you.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle as he followed Jack, watching as he slipped off his coat and tossed it on the couch as they passed it. When they entered the kitchen, Mark noted how clean and organized everything was in here too. It seemed like Jack definitely had his life in order.

“Berlios!” Jack called, his voice slightly echoing off of the walls. “Where are you?”

Berlios? Who in the world was Berlios? Was it perhaps a boyfriend? Mark hadn’t exactly asked if Jack was with someone since moving out here. 

The weight that was growing even heavier lightened when he saw a black cat trot into the kitchen, its tail curling around as it slowly approached Mark. A cat. Jack was calling a cat.

Bending down to scratch the pet’s head, he heard purring and returned a smile at the animal. “I didn’t think you liked cats.”

“I don’t really,” Jack responded, his head buried in the refrigerator looking for ingredients. “But I found this guy when I was waiting for a cab after work. He was really sickly looking. You know I’m more of a dog person, especially after having Gizmo for so long, but cats aren’t too bad.” He kicked the door shut as he came out with the raw chicken breasts he had been saving in a glass container. “Got kind of lonely out here anyway. It was nice to get some company.”

“Interesting,” Mark said to no one in particular as the cat jumped up onto the counter, his bell ringing with the motion.

“Berlios! No! Down! Down! You know you can’t be up here!” Jack swatted the air in front of him as he started to approach the cat. “This is where we make food!” Berlios immediately hopped down and darted down the hallway, exiting their line of site. “That damn cat.”

Mark laughed as he watched Jack begin prepping everything. He took it upon himself to sit on the barstool on the other side of the counter as he watched. He heard a familiar tune being hummed in the meantime, and when he matched the song, Jack quirked an eyebrow with a large smile plastered on his face.

“Hey, you remember that song?”

“You used to sing it all the time when you would cook. How could I forget?”

Jack’s cheeks warmed slightly, and Mark didn’t miss the red that creeped up on them either. For some reason, the Irishman looked extremely pleased with the situation at hand as he turned around to finish preparing the meal to stuff in the oven.

When the timer was set (it would be about forty-five minutes or so) the two retreated to the living room where Jack flipped on the television set on and the two reclined on the couch. Jack had kicked his feet up on the glass coffee table and leaned his head back on the top of the couch. In just a few minutes, his eyes fluttered shut and Mark was absolutely certain he had actually fallen asleep.

This was a strange situation Mark had found himself in. Here he was in LA, years later, running into his first true love. Jack’s life was so wildly different, and just from interacting with him for the last few hours definitely showed just how much he himself was different as well.

And Mark would be lying if he said that it didn’t hurt, even a tiny bit. Which he knew was outlandishly selfish, and didn’t make sense at all. He was the one who broke Jack’s heart in New York, albeit he was the one who cheated, but nonetheless, it was still unsettling. Mark supposed it was because while he was living the normal, comfortable life back home, Jack was living it up in LA with new hobbies, new circles, a new job. And when Mark heard the jingle of a bell from the other room, he cursed Berlios as well. There was a goddamned cat for crying out loud.

This was so toxic for him, and if he were to be honest, it wasn’t even on Jack’s behalf. It was purely just his own demons reminding him that he chose Danny over Jack, even when he had returned to ask Mark to move back in with him. He was already given the opportunity to choose what he wanted. 

Mark couldn’t help but question if he had chosen incorrectly. 

It wasn’t the new lifestyle that made him ponder this. It was the fact that years later, looking into Jack’s eyes took him to a much better time where the blood rushed wildly in his veins and his smile was so wide his cheeks would hurt. 

But that was years ago. It was all different now. He was remembering a life he once had, one that was no longer attainable. He blew his second chance. There would be no coming back from that.

Mark leaned over on the couch slightly, drifting slowly towards Jack whose eyes were still shut. He studied just how handsome Jack had become -- not that he wasn’t already attractive before. But now that they were a couple years later, Jack seemed to have settled in better with his confidence and looks. It definitely seemed like he had his life together. Definitely more than Mark did.

“I can feel your eyes staring holes into my face, Fischbach,” Jack smirked, startling Mark as he flung himself back into a reserved position. “I heard pictures last longer. You’re more than welcome to take one.”

“You’re still a sarcastic little shit, I see,” Mark retorted, his cheeks warming up. “Why am I not surprised?”

“Because, just like I know you, you know me,” Jack laughed as he stretched out his arms above his head. “We may have changed certain parts about ourselves, but our foundations are pretty much the same. It happens.”

“Aren’t you just a wise old man? I mean, you did replace your greying hair with that bright green mess you got going on, but you know.”

“And you want to call me a sarcastic little shit?” 

The two of them laughed and the two locked gazes for a moment, the giggling dying down. Jack still had that famous crooked smile on his face as he looked at his ex-boyfriend.

“What?” Mark asked the second time that night.

“I missed this, I guess,” Jack noted. “I haven’t had familiar company in a while. It’s nice seeing someone from my past I guess. Especially someone so important.”

Mark flushed at the comment, his eyes widening slightly. He hadn’t expected that to come out of Jack’s mouth yet again. He definitely didn’t beat around the bush anymore, and Mark couldn’t help but appreciate that a bit more.

But before he could really process what he was going to say next, he found his hands reaching out and cupping Jack’s cheeks softly, his thumb running over the skin. It was their first physical contact all night, and the fire that lit up inside Mark was untamed. His stomach felt uneasy and his heart was beating rapidly. He was waiting to see what Jack would do. Half of him expected his hands to be thrown off, but when Jack pushed him down onto the couch and pressed their lips together, he found himself utterly surprised for the hundredth time that night. 

It was warm. So warm. His chest was burning, his stomach was fluttering, and his fingers wrapped themselves in those green locks as he tugged at them eagerly. It was such a wild experience being back in Jack’s embrace, even years later, the fire inside couldn’t be extinguished. A part of him wondered when the kiss ended, would he would realize that it wasn’t what it was all cracked up to be? Would he realize he was pining the Jack’s absence, but not Jack himself? Would it be disappointing?

But none of those questions had yes as their answer as Jack groaned into the kiss, his hands gripping at Mark’s sides, his fingernails trailing red lines across the flushed skin. It was absolutely intoxicating, and Mark couldn’t get enough of it. 

His body was pressed further into the couch as Jack sat on his lower abdomen instead of hovering over him. Mark’s fingertips immediately grabbed hold of Jack’s hips and squeezed harshly as the kiss deepened, the lack of air being the last thing on his mind.

Everything was exactly what Mark wanted: passionate, desperate, longing. He missed this zeal, this incredible vigor that drove him wild. It was something he could never get with Danny, and the way that he was pulling Jack’s shirt off in a rush further proved this thought. With a shirtless Jack on top of him, Mark felt himself smile at the flushed cheeks and tossed around hair. It was such a beautiful sight, and goddamn, was it his favorite thing in the world.

The two spent the next half hour reliving what it felt like to be in their teens again. To make passionate love, to feel the warm brush of lips on already heated skin, to just be as wild and reckless as they could be. Mark knew that he was doing what Jack to him but to Danny. He was ultimately cheating on his boyfriend. Something he left Jack for years ago.

But in this moment, as he heard Jack whisper his name with each movement, his voice so soft and subtle as their hands intertwined above his head, his body feeling full each motion, Mark found that he couldn’t even care at that moment. All that he needed was Jack right now. That’s all he wanted.

By the end of it all, they were both covered in each other and their own layer of sweat. It had been a while since he had made love to someone -- and he realized that he couldn’t call it anything else. It was love.

Jack was breathing harshly as he rested on Mark’s chest, Mark’s hand petting that green hair softly. He was quite out of breath himself, but to feel Jack’s heartbeat on his own skin was something he found himself wanting to memorize yet again. It was absolutely wonderful.

“I think the timer went off a while ago,” Jack muttered as he ran his fingertips over Mark’s warm skin. “I’m sorry. I think I burned the chicken.”

Mark couldn’t help but chuckle amusedly. “Trust me. I could give two shits about the chicken right now.”

Jack felt himself laugh, and for a moment, Mark’s stomach almost flipped. 

“Are you sure? Do you just want me to order take-out? I think there are a few places still open this late. I mean, it’s pretty late, but it’s LA. I’m sure there’s somethin’.’

When Mark agreed and Jack pulled himself up to find his jeans to retrieve his phone, Mark sighed and sunk into the couch. This was definitely not the night he had once expected, but the thanked whatever the fuck was out there that he and Jack were able to cross paths again. Because this was an experience he was glad to have lived through. 

He also knew that when he got home, he would have to tell Danny that his trip to LA did indeed birth an infidelic night. The thought about it was slightly daunting, and he was sure it would ruin Danny considering the fact that they had been together for a considerable amount of time, but in a way, he was relieved. 

Mark couldn’t pinpoint it, but it seemed like his way out for sure. Something he had been searching for the night he and Jack danced in their old studio together. 

But when he looked at Jack who was now headed to the kitchen while on the phone trying out different take-out restaurants, it became clear that just because they had this one night together, didn’t particularly mean anything. For all he knew, it could have only just had physical meaning for Jack and nothing more. Did Mark even want to get back together with him? Did this night even mean anything in that direction at all? Was this an opportunity whatsoever?

The way Mark saw it was that this was the second time they crossed paths in such a manner. The first time, Jack had admitted he hadn’t expected to approach Mark -- Mark had just coincidentally looked out the window at the right time. This was the second, and it was pure chance that they had met again across the country at the right time. It was all luck. Everything between them was pure luck.

And that just had to mean something, right? Something?

When Jack finally found somewhere that delivered food this late and managed the burnt chicken mess, he advised Mark to redress before the delivery man had a very shocking visit. When the both of them redressed, Mark sat down on the couch first to see where Jack would sit. Would it be by him? On the other side of the couch? Would they have a purely honest discussion about what just happened between them?

He ended up laying on the couch with his head in Mark’s lap, Mark’s fingers tangled in Jack’s hair as the two continued to watch whatever was on the television set. Although he was a bit too engrossed in his thoughts to pay much attention, he found himself chuckling every now and then to the Friends re-run. 

The rest of the night was casual as the two finally received their food and continued binging Friends for hours. It was filled with laughter, flirtatious remarks, and sly smiles, and Mark found himself happier than he had been in years. As the two reclined back on the couch, a blanket thrown over the two of them as Mark spooned Jack from behind, he felt Jack’s breathing slow, his body immediately drifting off to sleep. The only sound in the apartment was the television and Berlios’s bell as he trotted throughout the house.

Mark’s flight left in the morning and he still had to return to his hotel to retrieve his bags and check out of his room. When he looked at the clock, he saw it was four in the morning. His flight was taking off in three hours, but he couldn’t find it in him to shake Jack awake. He looked so at peace, his hair disheveled, lips parted slightly as the slight snoring began.

But, he knew he had to anyway. He couldn’t possibly just leave Jack here without any notice. A note felt way too impersonal. 

So when he finally managed to stir Jack awake, his eyes fluttered open as he stretched his back slightly.

“Mark? What’s wrong? You cold? Need another blanket?”

“No, I-- I need to get back to my hotel. My flight leaves in a few hours, so I need to you know, get my stuff packed and everything.”

Jack froze for a moment, his eyes practically like a deer in headlights. “Oh, you were only in LA for the night?”

“Well, I mean I’ve been here for a few days. We just didn’t catch each other until, you know, my last night…” Mark was immensely nervous for some reason. He couldn’t pinpoint it. 

“Oh,” he muttered in response. “That wasn’t a lot of time at all. Damn.”

“I know,” Mark sighed as he ran his hand through Jack’s hair. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t pay for the flight out here, my work did, so it’s not like I can extend it or anything… I’m on a business trip and all that.”

“I know, I understand. Alright. Let’s get a cab to get you back to your hotel, then. I’ll meet you at the airport and see you off, yeah?”

Mark blinked hard. “You want to see me off?”

“Of course. What terminal are you taking?”

When Mark relayed the information on, he found his heart light and happy. Jack was going to see him off at the airport and everything. He wasn’t sure where any of this was headed, nor was he sure what to expect out of any of this, but he was damn sure that his racing heart was what was keeping him going.

They exchanged phone numbers for future reference as Jack ushered Mark into the cab so he would have ample time to leave the hotel and get to his flight.

“Why don’t you just come with me?” Mark questioned as he hopped in the backseat and Jack leaned on the door. “It makes much more sense for both of us to go at the same time instead of meeting up there.”

Jack paused, but a smile soon broke through. “I know. But, I promise I’ll be there, alright? Since I was at work all yesterday and we had quite the long night, I need a bit more sleep if that’s alright. I’m exhausted. I’m going to sneak in an extra hour.”

Mark simply nodded and leaned up to kiss Jack one last time before the door closed behind him. He watched as Jack dutifully waved him off, his crooked smile as wide as ever before he ended up out of sight.

But he never saw Jack at the airport. Jack never showed. Mark had stood around for ages, expecting, waiting. He even called a dozen times to which he just received voicemail after waiting a long time for the line to pick up. 

Mark never got an answer, and as he boarded his plane after they called out that it was time for departure, his chest hurt worse with each step, his eyes threatening to spill the tears that he was desperately trying to fight back. 

Mark ended up leaving the normally sunny Los Angeles with a few souvenirs and a broken heart.


End file.
